“What is the value of social support if we are ultimately alone?” This good question came my way recently and gave me pause to think. There are many ways to go with it. One way I understand reaching out is for the journey itself.
For years I found it difficult to accept that people come and go. How could someone be in your life and then *poof* be gone? What does that mean? What do I do with my caring? Or worse, will anyone care for me?
In that moment, we have two choices. We can lean into discomfort or distract against it.
We all need to be seen, loved and cherished. A felt sense of belonging is our birthright. Yet some come into this world and are met by disconnect. Fair or not, it doesn’t matter. Our connections with others inform our needs as well as how we get those needs met.
Friends and family form the bulk of our relational tapestry, but so do the many passers-by. Each one weaves a thread that tells a story of our lives. When we look back we see a broad cloth of pain, loss, regret, joy and comfort.
Perhaps the value of social support is the leap of faith it requires. John Welwood says a broken heart is bigger because it’s been broken…open. That’s the gift of our nature. We humans are clumsy but resilient. We reach out. Sometimes we get hurt, sometimes we get love. The trick is learning how to remain open and safe.